


No Surrender

by fantastik_obskurials



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: (post and pre), Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, References to Depression, Song Fic (Kinda), War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 07:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13519209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantastik_obskurials/pseuds/fantastik_obskurials
Summary: Percival hasn't seen Theseus Scamander in years. Things have changed, with years and life and an ocean in between. Theseus shows him how some things stay the same.





	No Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> Title and inspiration from Bruce Springsteen's 'No Surrender', which has been on repeat for quite a bit, and to me it sounded like these two.

I. 

_Now on the street tonight the lights grow dim_

_The walls of my room are closing in_

_There’s a war outside still raging_

_You say it ain’t ours anymore to win_

Theseus Scamander was the kind of man they invented colour film for. The sort of man with a presence so big he would have a room’s attention just by walking into it. It was like he’d ended up in the modern world by mistake, misplaced from times past when people still believed in heroes. Percival had half joined the fucking war just to stand by his side. And it was Percival alone who watched fading grey light play across skin bathed in mud and gore and smoke, across green-grey eyes half wild with fear, who watched the man pull his own spirit back from the brink of despair by sheer force of will. And he’d known,  _it is you I would follow_.

Age and pride and a world all but lost to a kind of grinding hopelessness had taken their toll. Had tried to grind them down like a cigarette butt under a boot heel - Percival twice as hard, given his predisposition toward melancholy - but some scars are borne of love, not cruelty, and the ones they had marked in magic and blood had yet to fade. A reminder -  _not today_.

All those years and a fucking ocean in between, and they’d pushed on, step by step until only the brave or stupid would stand against them. 

Or the evil.

He couldn’t see the scar anymore, not when his skin was a ruin. And it shouldn’t have mattered now, after everything, when he was still alive. But his memories were like things read in a storybook a long time ago now. His mind told him the tale, but he couldn’t see.

He worked, because it was necessary. He ate, because he didn’t want to have to buy a smaller wardrobe. He slept, enough to function. They called him a hero and they called him a traitor and his expression remained the same for each one. Another war was coming, but it wasn’t his to fight. Too old. He was just laying the groundwork.

II.

__

_I wanna sleep beneath peaceful skies in my lover’s bed_

_With a wide open country in my eyes_

_And these romantic dreams in my head_

When Theseus Scamander walked into the Woolworth building it was like a force of nature. His brother had been chaos, quick and fluid and ever-shifting. Theseus was constant, rhythmic and strong, and they couldn’t look away. But he didn’t stop for them.

He strode through the door and the wards to Percival’s office as if they were not there, and slammed both in the face of those who officiously followed. The man himself sat at his desk like a shadow, but he couldn’t control the shock that spasmed over his face at the entrance of his friend brother.

“Thes-” his voice a hoarse whisper. Theseus didn’t give him space, pulled him out of his seat and into his arms. Never, not once before, had he seen Percival Graves look small.

“What the actual fuck, Percy?” Theseus gripped him by the shoulders. “Were you ever going to fucking tell me?”

Percival was crumbling, cornered, trembling, his eyes darting across Theseus’ face as if searching. Finally, he spoke, “What would I have said?”

“Anything. Anything, you complete idiot.” He moved one hand to stroke a thumb across the cheekbone of that familiar face, too obvious now in his gauntness. Dark eyelashes fluttered and one shaking hand reached for his waist, almost touched.

“Thes- I don’t- I can’t-”

“Can’t what pup?”

“It’s gone, Thes. He took- it’s all gone.” He was shaking his arm, the one once pressed to his own in blood and feverish youth. Theseus dragged him closer, bent down to press their foreheads together. He would have drowned in those eyes twenty years ago and Christ alive if he wouldn’t now.

“Percival Graves that fucker couldn’t pry me out of you with the fucking elder wand. I’m in deeper than your skin you absolute wanker.”

He pressed a kiss to his mouth like a brand, and finally, finally felt arms grip him back, strong and clutching. Percival held on, and Theseus breathed in the warmth of his skin, the smell of the pomade in his hair, the hint of coffee on his breath. He felt tears sting his eyes, knowing he was almost too late.

“I’m so fucking tired Thes,” the man in his arms groaned. Theseus nodded, squeezing slightly.

“Then let’s get you home Percy-pup.”

III.

__

_Well now young faces grow sad and old_

_And hearts of fire grow cold_

_We swore blood brothers against the wind_

_I’m ready to grow young again_

Having Theseus in his house felt like some sort of dream. Once or twice he would turn round to find him taking up space in his kitchen, his living room, his bed, and wonder if it was an hallucination. He found that he wasn’t overly bothered if it was, only that it didn’t fade.

But the days went by and Theseus didn’t leave, didn’t even bring it up though he would read through Ministry files at Percival’s side, making notes and sharing thoughts as they worked by the fire in the study. He thought war was coming too, but nobody was listening much.

Getting to see the colour of his eyes again, to remember the rasping quality of his early morning grumble, to catalogue the changes in the lines on his face, was like a kind of rebirth. Like his heart had started to pump blood through his body again, his lungs take breath; no longer a shell, a machine, but a man.

“You’ve got that constipated look that says you’re thinking Percy-pup.”  _Smug fucker. Never change._

“I’m surprised you recognise such a look, as underdeveloped as your own faculties are.”

“Arse,” he responded, tackling Percival to the sofa. After a few moments they settled. Percival could hear the thump of his heart as he laid on the larger man’s chest. Theseus petted his hair, humming. He always did have a thing for hair.

“What are we doing Thes?” he whispered finally.

It took Theseus a few moments to respond.

“Regrouping, I’d say.”

“And then?”

A soft chuckle. “My Percy.” There was something so painfully gentle in his voice. Percival squeezed his eyes closed. Theseus sighed.

“I’d ask you what you want but you always were a self-sacrificing bastard.” A few beats, then he spoke again. “There’s a war coming.”

“Not our war, not this time.”

“Mmm. I think you almost believe that.”

Percival sat up, looked at the man he’d called friend, brother,  _love_. Felt something spark in his chest.

“What are you saying?”

There was that famed Scamander smile, tempered now by the lines on his face and a softness in his eyes that refused to die.

“Come with me Percival.”

“Where?”

“Wherever we need to go.” Theseus gripped his hands. “You’re dying here, growing small and old. That’s what they’ll make you. They’re doing the same to me. They’ll write us off and tell us to stay home, rest on our laurels and fade away.”

That spark in his chest was growing. He had no idea that Theseus felt anything like he did.

“So let’s find our own way Percy, let’s fight our own way, together.”

Two ageing soldiers going it alone was ridiculous. But he wasn’t afraid anymore of looking foolish. He’d given so many years to MACUSA, to the law, to what he wanted to be justice. And he’d lost himself, before this man of flesh and blood and fire had called him back.

“Neither of us really were the retiring kind,” he mused.

“Perce, if I actually thought you wanted it, I’d fucking buy you a cottage in the country with a herb garden and a kneazle, and I’d be your fucking housewife until we pop our clogs, but I really don’t think you do.”

“Mmm not now perhaps.” Percival smiled.

“No, not now.” Theseus bumped his forehead with his own. “We’ll fight, and we’ll live, and we’ll sleep together under open skies in places we’ve never been. No more hiding. You’re my very heart, Percival Graves, and I’m keeping you.”

“I love you, you know.”

Their kiss was a little bit soft and just a bit sharp.

“Good, ‘cause if we live I really do think we should get that cottage after all. I’d look fucking incredible in a housewife apron.” 

Theseus’ smile was love and mischief and Percival laughed to see him. He felt the spark in his chest flare and burn. It felt like adventure. It felt like home.

“I’m ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments appreciated! Come say hi on tumblr https://fantastikobskurials.tumblr.com/


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